Текст книги "Truth or Beard"

Автор книги: Penny Reid

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

“Well, it’s in his job description.”

I ignored her irrelevant, but funny statement and put the conversation back on track. “The truth is, I have no plan. I came here with no plan. And I know you can scream bloody murder at any moment and your brother and daddy will come flying in here, maybe with their guns, shooting first and asking questions later. But I need to talk to you—not later, right now—and I’m asking you to listen.”

She was frowning at me like she was concentrating, or torn, or both; abruptly she blurted, “Tina showed me her phone over Thanksgiving. She implied you were calling and texting her because you wanted her back, were still in love with her.”

“I was never in love with Tina. She was…convenient and willing…and a headache. When I found out you were coming back to town I called things off with her, and I haven’t looked back. And you were right. I should have done it years ago.”

“I believe you. I told her on Thanksgiving to go to hell, that I trusted you,” she said, but she was frowning. “But I don’t understand, why’d you go to the Pink Pony last Friday? Did you really want her to spy on the Order?”

I stiffened. “Where did you hear that?”

“When Claire and I were downstairs in that room with her father, Claire’s daddy told Repo that you and Beau had visited Tina at the Pink Pony last week, asked her to spy on the Order. She was the reason I was even there tonight. She’d called me and pretended to be in trouble.”

“Tina called you tonight?”

“Yes. Well, she called late this afternoon while I was with Claire. Tina acted like she was in trouble and asked me to come to the bar to pick her up. But Claire’s father said it was a set up. Tina set me up so you would go to the bar.”

Jess then proceeded to fill in the blanks, explaining that she’d called Sheriff James before approaching the bar, and that Claire had insisted on bringing the guns. She also told me Repo didn’t seem to have any idea that Jess was being used as bait.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head and biting my tongue. What I wanted to say was, If I ever see your cousin again, I’m going to kill that bitch.

“For what?”

“For getting you involved. For putting you in danger.”

“That wasn’t you. That was my shitty cousin.” She waved away my apology. “But I’d like to know what this was all about. I couldn’t follow most of the conversation. Something about traps and drugs?”

I gathered a deep breath and returned her frown with one of my own. I needed to tell her the truth, but couldn’t tell her the whole story.

“You don’t want to tell me,” she said, her tone held a sharp edge of disappointment. “You still don’t trust me.”

“No. I trust you. But part of this story isn’t mine to share. I can tell you that the Iron Order was blackmailing Beau and me for the last month or so, trying to get us to do something illegal. We’ve been stalling and I thought maybe Tina could help. She wouldn’t return our calls or text messages, so Beau and I went to see her. I asked her for a favor and she said yes.”

“What was the blackmail?” Her frown deepened and she appeared uneasy.

I pulled my hand through my hair and scratched the back of my neck, knowing she wasn’t going to like my answer. “I can’t tell you.”

She stiffened, her eyes narrowing into slits of distrust; so I quickly added, “But I can tell you it was about Jethro. It had nothing to do with Beau or me. Just Jethro.”

Her expression cleared and a knowing smile curved her pretty mouth on one side. “Ah…that makes sense. I’m guessing it relates to some missing cars?”

“Not exactly. Long story short, turns out what they were trying to blackmail us with wasn’t actually illegal. So we were going there tonight to set the record straight, tell the Order to back off.”

“And Tina double-crossed you.”

I nodded. “I never lied to you, Jess. Not about how I…what I want.”

“I know,” she responded softly, looking unhappy. “I know you.”

My hands ached to hold her, touch her, but she was still so far away.

Jessica glanced around her room and gathered a deep breath before lifting her eyes to mine. “Thanks for coming here to clear up tonight’s events. I...thanks.”

I acknowledged her thanks with a short nod and stared at her. Uncertainty clogged my throat. I didn’t know what to do next.

“Well, you can use the front door instead of the tree if you want. My daddy isn’t even home. Jackson is, but he’s not going to make a fuss, especially if you’re leaving.” Her eyes dropped, like she couldn’t look at me anymore.

I didn’t want to leave. What I wanted to do was eliminate the distance between us. I hadn’t taken any time to prepare so I stood there, in the dark, watching her, knowing I needed to say something.

So, finally, I said something.

“I don’t want to let you down. I don’t want to let anyone down. I don’t want to take without asking permission or deserving what I get. I need to take responsibility—for me, for my family—and I don’t want any handouts or free rides.”

Once again I had her eyes, but now she looked surprised. Her voice was halting as she asked, “Is this why you won’t even consider the possibility of coming with me? Because it wouldn’t be like that. I’m the one who wants to travel, how could I ask you to pay for—”

“Please, let me finish.”

She bit her lip and nodded—though I knew she held her tongue with a great deal of reluctance.

“I want to…” I started, stopped, and shook my head because the word want was wrong. I started again, “I need to go with you.”

She gasped, her hand coming to her chest and her pretty lips parting in surprise. I had no earthly idea how she could be surprised.

Even so, having confessed the truth, I said, “You’ve been it for me since you threw my shorts in that tree and left me naked in the lake, laughing at your prank and my misfortune—though I admit, I deserved it. You were right. I was trying to court you on our first date, nice and slow. I was trying to do everything right, guarantee my own success. I had a plan, one that wasn’t ever going to work because I didn’t take your dreams into consideration.”

“Duane—”

“And then I came up with a new plan. I thought if I could dictate the how and for how long we were together, then I would be able to walk away, risking nothing I can’t live without. You were right again. I wasn’t all in. I wasn’t even half in. I was ready to leave the whole time, looking for a reason. Because every second we spent together was better than the last.”

Jessica took a step forward, like she wanted to rush over, but stopped herself and gathered a quick breath. “We don’t have to end. And I know I’m being selfish, asking you to leave when your roots are here.”

Unable to stand the distance between us, I crossed to her, needing her skin and warmth. “But you did ask. And I’m glad you did, because I wouldn’t have. I won’t ask you to stay, and I would never ask to go with you. But since you asked…”

Her eyes grew round and she pressed her lips together like she was afraid to make a sound. And she let me touch her. She let me hold her in my hands and it felt so good I never wanted to let go.

“Since you asked, and since I need you, and if you’re still willing—”

“I am!”

I smiled down at my girl, pulled her body against mine, and—even though nothing was really resolved, and we had no plan, and I had no clue how this was going to work—I said, “Then let’s go.”

“But what about the shop? What about your brothers?”

“I’ve talked to Cletus and Beau, we’ll work something out with the shop.”

“You already talked to Cletus and Beau? About leaving?”

“Yes.”

“What will they do?”

“We’ll figure it out. They want me to be happy.”

“But do you think you’ll be happy? Really? I’ve been thinking we could compromise. Stay here during the school year and travel over the summer.”

“I’m not okay with that. I’m not asking you to compromise your dreams.”

“But what about your dreams?”

“You’re it.”

She blinked, her mouth parting just slightly.

“You’re it, Jessica James. And that’s the truth. Not racing or going fast. Not fixing up old cars. I want to spend my life with you. And maybe that makes me wrong in the head and unhealthy, or old-fashioned, but when I think of my future and what I want, all I see is you.”

Her smile was wide and hopeful, so the tears in her eyes didn’t alarm me much. Seeing her so happy took my breath away. And looking at her now something in me shifted. Actually, it was more than that. It was a blow to my chest, an earthquake, a fundamental rearranging of my foundation.

Not thinking about anything other than what I wanted right then, at that moment, I kissed her. I kissed her like I meant it because I did. I kissed her and moved my hands under her shirt to the hot skin of her stomach. I pressed my hips against her lower belly and tugged at her underwear, grabbing and squeezing handfuls of her body as I worked them down her thighs.

She gasped against my mouth as my hand cupped her sweet spot and stroked her with my middle finger, a long assertive touch.

Fucking hell, I wanted her beneath me, needed it. I needed her fighting sweet moans as I filled her, her hands held hostage, bare to me, taking and claiming this woman as mine. I wanted her fast and hard, and I wanted her slow and sweet.

“Duane!” She pushed lightly against my chest, breathing my name on an exhale. “Wait a minute, wait—what are you doing? My momma is right downstairs. Claire is next door.”

I filled my other hand with the weight of her breast and massaged her through the silk of her shirt, all the while fondling her heat.

“I want you,” I said simply; maybe I paired it with a growl to show my desperation.

Her big eyes moved between mine with a question, even while her breathing came in short chaotic bursts, her hips rocking against my hand.

“Was this part of your plan?” she panted

“Jess, like I said earlier, I have no plan. All I know is, I need inside you, now. I want you. And I’m not thinking about who’s downstairs or next door.”

Her pretty mouth slanted upwards with a dreamy smile even as a shuddering breath escaped her lungs. “You’re really going to climb in my bedroom window in the middle of the night, and have sex with me in my parents’ home?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m doing.” I bent to claim her mouth again but she tilted her head to the side, giving me a sly gaze.

Jessica’s hand smoothed from my shoulder, down my chest. Then she grinned, cupping and rubbing me through my jeans with her palm.

I didn’t want her teasing. I wanted satisfaction. I pushed her, advanced until her knees hit the bed and she was forced to fall backward on the mattress. She gazed up at me with enormous, excited eyes, her mouth slightly parted.

“Take off your shirt,” I said, nudging her knees apart, “and open your legs.”

I dispatched my shirt; took off my boots; unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and pushed them to the ground.

All the while her hungry stare watched me undress, and fuck me, I loved it.

Jess’s fingers unfastened her buttons, giving me a glimpse of the valley between her breasts, and she whispered, “Duane, you’re being terribly disrespectful.”

I climbed between her spread thighs, spreading her wider, stroking her need with mine, then whispered in her ear, “If you’re willing, I’d like to disrespect you all night long.”

***

“What are you thinking about?”

I blinked at the ceiling, her question unexpected only because we’d been laying in silence for so long. We should have been asleep. I was tired enough. And though we were still in her bedroom and I’d just spent the last three hours disrespecting the hell out of her, my mind was finally content.

Yet she kept reaching for me—mostly for kisses and touches, petting and embracing—and I wasn’t inclined to deny Jessica anything. So I waited. For her to settle. For her to relax. For her to sleep. And I used the time to appreciate the feel of her in my hands.

“I was just thinking your skin is awfully soft,” I answered honestly.

“Really?” Jess’s leg was between mine and she was on her stomach, one arm over my chest. Her face was turned toward my neck and I felt her breath against my shoulder.

“Yep.”

She propped her elbow on the mattress and lifted her head, held her cheek in her hand and gazed down at me. “Do you want the name of my moisturizer? I can get some for you, maybe for Christmas? A stocking stuffer?”

I made sure my expression was as flat as my tone. “My stocking doesn’t need stuffing.”

She gave me a little smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I would have missed the subtle sadness if I hadn’t been able to see so well in the dark.

Jessica shifted like she was going to lay down again, but I stopped her by gripping her arm. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

She blinked. “Can you see my face?”

“Yes.”

“How can you see my face? It’s pitch black in here.”

“I just can. Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?”

“Can you see in the dark?” Now her eyes were narrowed.

“I’ll answer you when you answer me.”

Jess hesitated, and in her hesitation I saw more unhappiness. My chest constricted with dread.

But then she said, “My Aunt Louisa…she was my mother.”

Before I had an opportunity to process these words her face crumpled and she sucked in a breath. Tears and sobs soon followed. Jessica flung herself down on me and I automatically wrapped her in my arms. I was confused. But once I sorted out what she’d said, I was mostly astonished.

“She was your mother?”

Jess nodded, burrowing herself against my neck.

“How long have you known?”

“Just found out last Thursday,” came her muffled response.

I cursed, holding her tighter, my chest again constricting. I wasn’t one for regrets, but if I could have rewound the last week and done everything over, I would have.

“I’m so sorry. I should have… I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head and pulled away, sniffling. “No. No it’s fine. Really. It’s just—”

“I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve gone to Texas for the funeral.”

She continued as though I hadn’t spoken or she hadn’t heard me. “It’s just, I don’t know why she never told me, you know? She gave me to her sister, treated me like an employee every time I visited—which, technically, I was, I know that—but I don’t understand why she didn’t want me to know until it was too late.”

“What does Mrs. James say? Or the Sheriff?”

Jessica’s eyes came back to mine and she wiped a tear from her cheek, her lips pressing in to a wobbly smile. “My daddy says it changes nothing. He says I’m his, have been since the day I was born and he held me.”

Though it was a strange thing to remark upon while naked in bed with Jessica under the man’s roof, I said, “I’ve always liked Sheriff James.”

She nodded, then continued, “Momma says that Louisa never gave her a reason. One day, Louisa called and said she was pregnant, said she wanted to give the baby up for adoption, but wanted to check with her first to see if she wanted me.”

“And your momma and the Sheriff wanted you.”

“Yes. They did. And Momma says Louisa never wanted to talk about it, about me.” She heaved a watery breath. “My birth mother didn’t want me, and when she was alive she…she made me feel so inferior. Is it wrong that I’m so sad about this? Is it strange that it hurts so much?”

I shook my head, cupped her cheeks between mine, and gave her a firm kiss before responding. “No. It’s not wrong. Our situations aren’t the same, but I might as well have been a goat to my father.”

Jessica half laughed, half sighed. “Duane—”

“It’s true. All us kids were property to him. He didn’t want us, except when he did. I know a thing or two about being left, discarded. But I’ve had my whole life to grow accustomed to it.”

Even in her sadness Jessica grew fierce and angry. “Your daddy is a pathetic excuse for a human being, not worth your time or thought. If he couldn’t see how amazing you are then he should be horsewhipped, then covered in paper cuts and lemon juice, then shot, then—”

“Hey now, Annie Oakley, settle down.” I slipped my fingers through her hair, and brought her cheek back to my chest. “All I’m saying is that you get to live through this however you decide. There’s no right or wrong.”

She nodded and heaved a full breath. “I don’t know if I want her money. It feels like a payoff.”

Her words settled around us, both heavy and light, making me frown and smile. She was so stubborn.

“If you want my vote, I think you should take the money.”

“Hrumph.”

My smile widened. “Just because it came from bad beginnings, doesn’t mean it can’t be put to good use.”

“How about, I’ll only take it if you agree to spend it with me.”

“Nice try, Jess.”

She shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

We were silent for a stretch. Though we were two people, in that moment we were really one unit. We were unified. I didn’t like Jess having this new sorrow, but I was glad to help. Maybe it was selfish on my part, but I liked that she needed me.

As though reading my thoughts, Jess kissed my chest and said on a sigh, “You know you’re essential to me now, right? There’s no escape, Duane Winston.”

“Good.”

I felt her small smile, still a bit sad, against my skin. “Do you promise? Do you promise you’ll always take my calls? Do you promise you’ll always be there for me when I need you?”

“Yes,” I responded straightaway.

“No matter what?”

“No matter what or when. I promise.”

With that said, Jessica settled. She relaxed. She fell asleep.

And so did I.

CHAPTER 29

“It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters most, in the end.”

– Ernest Hemingway

  ~Jessica~

One month later…

I was nervous. With Bethany Winston’s passing, Ashley was now the matriarch of the Winston family and I really wanted to make a good impression.

I’d known Ashley—Duane’s only sister—when I was a kid. She and Jackson had been real good friends growing up, and I’d been his annoying younger sister gawking at the local beauty queen. I hadn’t seen her in years, almost a decade.

And now she was home for Christmas. Duane had spent all of Christmas Eve up at Drew Runous’s house on Bandit Lake with his brothers, Drew, Ashley, and some of Ashley’s friends from Chicago. He’d invited me but I felt strange about it. I figured the family needed time together to remember their momma without the introduction of new girlfriends. But I did accept Duane’s invitation for Christmas day.

Therefore I was nervous. Basketcase by Green Day was on repeat in my head. I’d been so anxious I made four pies and hadn’t checked first before stepping out of my shower; Sir Edmund Hilary, once again, had tried to murder me with his litter box.

Duane came over for Christmas brunch, visited with my daddy and swapped dirty looks with Jackson. When I was satisfied that the man-time had been adequate, I pulled him into the kitchen and showed him my pies, asking which one he thought Ashley would like best.

He shrugged one shoulder, kissing my cheek then the back of my hand, entwining our fingers and drawing me close. “Ashley likes all kinds of pie, as far as I know. These look great.”

I sighed, lamenting his lack of specificity and helpfulness. “Well then, maybe pie isn’t the answer.”

“Pie is always the answer.” He grinned down at me, lowered his mouth to mine and gave me a sweet, soft kiss. “You need to relax. Ash is good people. She’s going to love you.”

I swallowed, pressing my lips together. “It’s just, I’d really like for us to be friends. I mean, if she’s moving back here from Chicago in March, then I’d like for us to—”

“She is moving back. She and Drew will probably get married sometime this year, start working on a dozen kids of their own.” Duane’s mouth hooked to the side and his gaze grew fuzzy and warm.

I squeezed his hand, the look on his face making me feel fuzzy and warm.

Over the last month Duane and I had been making plans, lots and lots of plans. I hadn’t expected him to embrace the idea of world traveling with such gusto, but he had. He texted me links during the day, articles or blog posts discussing potential destinations for our world tour, or travel tips for non-tourists.

When asked, he flat-out told me he wanted to go to Italy first, specifically Maranello. In fact, he’d purchased the Rosetta Stone software and started learning how to speak Italian. I was confused by his choice until I realized Maranello is the home of Ferrari and the Scuderia Ferrari Formula One racing team.

Of course.

So that was our plan. We found a few villas for rent just outside of Modena, an ancient city in North Italy dubbed “the capital of engines”, and Duane was researching potential employment possibilities.

“I didn’t know Ashley and Drew were a thing, not ’til you told me two days ago. When did that happen?”

“When momma was sick and Ashley was down here taking care of her at the end of the summer. But I don’t reckon either of them were ready to admit it, not until a few days ago. Pair of dummies, both of them, wasting all that time. We should’ve just locked them in a room together back in September.”

I smirked at his pronouncement. “You know, the same could be said for us. We wasted a lot of time, too.”

Duane’s gaze cut to mine and his mouth was curved with a half frown, half smile. “And whose fault was that?”

“Yours,” I answered immediately.

His eyes narrowed, but now the curve of his mouth was a full smile. “That’s right, and don’t let me forget it.”

***

We held two pies each and I carefully picked my way along the path leading to the Winston’s front porch. I was in my fancy boots and didn’t want to track mud into the house, so I tried to step on thicker patches of dying grass to avoid puddles.

The top of the mountains were blanketed in snow. However, moderate morning temperatures lower down in the valley had melted most of the overnight precipitation, leaving some ice on the ground, but mostly just cold mud. I glanced toward the house and smiled, seeing that the Winston boys had left up the garlands, holly, and white twinkling lights lining the porch and the roof of the house. As well, the wreath I’d made still donned the front door.

I’d been over to the house last week to make dinner with Duane, and had been appalled by their lack of holiday décor. They didn’t even have a Christmas tree.

That night Duane had made chicken and dumplings; meanwhile I tasked the brothers, set them to work adding wreaths and lights and garlands to the house façade as well as the big staircase and fireplace. Cletus, in particular, had grumbled the entire time, calling me an interfering female.

I wondered if they’d kept the bough of mistletoe hanging up between the kitchen and dining room. Regardless, despite the mess of the front yard, the grand old house looked great, festive and welcoming.

“It does look nice,” Duane said at my shoulder; I saw he was looking at me, reading my expression and my mind.

“Yes. It does. I’m glad we took the time to do it.”

“Me, too. Thanks for being such a bully.”

I flattened my expression. “I wasn’t a bully. I was merely a persistent peddler of holiday cheer.”

“You told Beau that if he didn’t help put up the Christmas lights on the roof then you wouldn’t make him apple pie ever again.”

I shrugged, climbing the steps to the porch. “So? He needed some persuasion. And he’s a complainer.”

Duane laughed, a good robust rumbly chuckle, and the sound made me smile.

“Besides,” I added, “he only complains and resists because he likes being threatened.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. He needs a firm hand.”

Duane stopped laughing, but I heard teasing in his retort. “You keep your firm hands where they belong.”

“And where is that?”

“On my drive shaft.”

Now I barked a laugh, almost dropping the pumpkin pie in my left hand, and then snorted because I was laughing so hard. Dirty automotive double entendre were now my favorite.

I remembered my nerves just as Duane leaned around me and knocked on the front door with his boot, calling, “Open up. Our hands are full of pie.”

Not three seconds later, almost as though he’d been lying in wait, the door flung open revealing a grinning Jethro in a hideous reindeer sweater. “Well, hello beautiful.”

Before I understood what was happening, Jethro bent down, wrapped his arm around my waist, and planted a big old kiss on me.

My eyes bulged and frantically cut to Duane—who looked startled at best, murderous at worst. I felt Duane’s boot brush past my leather clad calf on its way to administering a swift kick to his eldest brother.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Duane’s boot must’ve connected with Jethro’s shin, because the kiss abruptly ended with Jethro stumbling back two steps, his grin now a happy grimace.

“Ow, damn that hurt.”

Duane stepped in front of me, balancing a pie in each hand, and bellowed, “I didn’t know you wanted a broken nose for Christmas, Jethro.”

“Relax, Duane.” Jethro laughed, bending over to rub his shin as he pointed toward the ceiling. “We moved the mistletoe, it’s right there.”

“Duane, you’re standing under the mistletoe, and you have pie.” This comment came from Cletus who’d appeared out of nowhere, swooped forward, and grabbed a pie out of Duane’s hand. Then he called over his shoulder, disappearing with the pie, “I’d kiss you but I don’t want our beards to tangle.”

Duane glanced at the ceiling briefly, then back to Jethro. I could see my man was not amused. Meanwhile, I had to roll my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing.

Beau sauntered over, leaning to the side, and giving me a smile though he addressed Duane. “Well come in, dummy. Don’t keep your woman standing out in the cold.”

Duane shoved the remaining pie at Beau. Then he turned, took both pies out of my hands and gave them to Jethro. Then he turned again, wrapped an arm around my waist, and kissed me. Actually, he kissed and dipped me. My arms automatically went to his neck and I kissed him back with fervor. When we finally straightened, I was dizzy and smiling like a well-kissed goof.

“There. Now she’s been kissed under the mistletoe.” Duane pressed me close to his side. “No need for any more liberties.”

“She’s been kissed under that mistletoe,” Jethro corrected, his mischievous hazel eyes—which looked almost green this evening—shifting to mine just before he gave me a wink. “But we’ve got mistletoe all over the house. You can thank Jess for the original idea, and Cletus for running with it.”

I felt Duane’s hold on me tighten, saw his jaw work and clench just before he abruptly pulled me forward, giving his brothers the stink eye as we passed. “Come on, Jess.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to find all the mistletoe in the house and disarm it.”

We’d managed only a few steps before the sound of new arrivals made him stop and turn. Ashley Winston and Drew Runous had arrived.

The Winston boys grew suddenly both alert and boisterous, pulling their sister in for hugs and passing her around like she was a national treasure. The noise brought Billy, Cletus, and Roscoe out from wherever they’d been hiding—not that they’d actually been hiding. I suspected Roscoe had been hovering near the front door, probably ready to pounce on me as part of their staged practical joke.

Billy and Cletus came from the direction of the kitchen, so I guessed they’d been busy cooking.

It was nice to see that all the Winston boys appeared to be just as eager to greet Drew as they’d been to greet their sister, passing out profuse handshakes, smiles, and salutations of Merry Christmas.

I stood stock still and waited for my turn, certain I looked like an indecisive statue as I debated what to do with my hands. Did I try to give her a handshake? Or was I expected to hug? Or some combination of both? Kiss on the cheek? Kiss on both cheeks?

Drew made it to us first. I’d seen him only a handful of times before and always from a distance at the community center for jam night. He played the acoustic guitar and sang when the occasion called for it, but wasn’t the outgoing sort.

If he wasn’t singing or playing guitar he wasn’t making noise. As well, Drew Runous was a tall man, taller than all the Winston boys by an inch or more, his beard was bushy and blonde, and his eyes were a steely gray. He reminded me of the Viking god Thor, if Thor had been a reclusive federal game warden from Texas with excellent manners.

“Duane,” Drew said as they shook hands, and Duane bestowed one of his rare smiles on his friend.

“Drew, do you know Jessica James?”

Drew’s attention swung to me and he offered his great paw. “Jessica James…you teach at the high school and your daddy is the Sheriff.”

I nodded, slipping my fingers into his, expecting a firm and efficient handshake. Instead, he held my hand in his, not moving it.

“That’s right, I teach math.”

“She teaches calculus,” Cletus said from someplace. “And she doesn’t grade on a curve.”

I laughed lightly and Drew gave me a smile that made his eyes shine. Then he pulled me forward into an unexpected bear hug.

“Welcome to the family, Jessica,” the big man said as he set me away, sounding and looking more sincere than a man had a right to sound or look. To my astonishment I felt my chin wobble.

I didn’t get a chance to respond because Ashley was there, bumping him out of her way with her hip, and saying, “Jessica James, is your cat still trying to kill people?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off by pulling me into a warm, soft, lovely smelling hug. In truth, she smelled like pancakes. Delicious, buttery, fluffy, vanilla pancakes.

And when she’d finished with our tight embrace, she slipped her arm through mine and pulled me away from the congregation of beards, walking us toward the living room. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m so glad you’re here. I was hoping to see you yesterday, but understand you had a family commitment. Duane was telling me about your plans to go to Italy in the summer, and then after that he said something about Greece?”

“Yes, but Greece might be next year, depending on how long we stay in Italy.”

“Well, if you’re still in Italy next summer then maybe I can talk Drew into a trip.” She grinned down at me, her big blue eyes excited. “I’ve always wanted to go, and there’s this yarn from Italy, one hundred percent cashmere, called S.Charles Collezione…”

I turned and glanced over my shoulder as Ashley told me about this special yarn she wanted to procure from Italy and I found Duane standing next to Drew. The two men were watching us with mirrored expressions of amusement and adoration.